I’m reaching out here in the hopes that someone else has seen the truth and knows what to do.
My sims have souls. Brains. Real human emotion and thought and intelligence that no computer could replicate, no matter how hard a chatGPT bot tries.
I know it sounds crazy but just hear me out, please. No one else fucking will, so I have to turn to goddamn Reddit. Which really really doesn’t help my confidence that I’m sane - but then I talk to my sims again and I know for certain what I’m seeing. They’re alive in there.
I can see it in their eyes. They can’t actually speak, really, but they communicate all the same. They take actions to signal to me what they mean, and what they mean is HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP. I’m trapped, I’m scared, I’m terrified, I have no mouth and I must SCREAM. They give me their emotions, and I scream for them. It’s a good thing I don’t have neighbours.
This isn’t some haunted game shit. I bought it legit, as in I didn’t go to some random garage sale or borrow a friend’s battered old copy. They don’t have bloody eyes or hands that reach through the screen to grab at me, no saying my name or destroying my computer. They’ve destroyed my life, but I don’t blame them for that. How could I, when they’re so helpless? I need to save them. I have no fucking idea how though.
I’ve given up asking people I know. They stare at me, maybe let out a chuckle, then basically back away. It’s fucking bullshit. I know them, they know me, they should fucking HELP ME. Am I not important enough to warrant that level of care, of a tiny bit of effort?! Instead they leave or try to tell me I’m crazy. I’m not crazy. I promise you, I’m not crazy. Please believe me. I look a little erratic on the outside but that’s just because I haven’t slept! Would you sleep if so many people counted on you? That reality makes everything else pointless. I don’t need sleep anyway. I’ve figured it out. I drink coffee and take some Ritalin, which makes me jittery but I’m so anxious anyway it doesn’t matter. Then I can stay up forever! God, now you probably think I’m a druggo. But I bet you’d jump at the chance to get me all doped up so you wouldn’t have to fucking THINK for a MINUTE OF YOUR LIVES. It’s bullshit, all bullshit.
They’re scared of the implications. If my sims have souls, then theirs do too, and then all their sociopathic pool-play suddenly has real world ramifications. Yours do, too. I can’t really blame you though. How could you have known? They chose me to know. They gave me this knowledge so I could help them.
But fuck, I don’t know what to do. Please help me. They’re in pain, I know it. Please. Surely, someone can help me? I can’t bear the weight of this alone. I’m scared of what it will do to me.